


frenemies

by cassyl



Series: witcher femslash february [9]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassyl/pseuds/cassyl
Summary: Yennefer reflects on her relationship with Fringilla
Relationships: Fringilla Vigo/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Istredd/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: witcher femslash february [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191461
Kudos: 1





	frenemies

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to [@bamf-jaskier](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com/)'s [Witcher Femslash February](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com/post/641932214927523840/i-noticed-that-there-is-a-startling-lack-of-prompt) prompts!

Yennefer wonders if there’s a word for what they are to each other, she and Fringilla.

Finding the right words for things matters to Yennefer. There are words for spells, and words that people spit at you in the street. They can change someone’s destiny— _four marks_ , she thinks, perhaps is always thinking, somewhere far in the back of her mind. Words can leave a scar that never fades. Someday not too far from now, someone will say some words and she will no longer be an apprentice but a full-fledged mage. She will speak a vow of fealty to some king and become a member of a royal court. Words have power. Words give the world its shape.

But this thing between her and Fringilla, it evades definition. 

They have never been friends, not really. In her first miserable days at Aretuza, she’d felt a certain sort of naïve kinship with Fringilla—shy, uncertain, so powerful she’d hurt herself if she wasn’t careful. But any thought that they were remotely alike faded away once she heard Fringilla talking about her life at home. No one who came from such an influential family, who was raised in a manor with servants to perform every incidental daily task, who had never been hungry a day in her life could possibly have anything in common with the crooked girl who preferred to spend time with the pigs because they were more intelligent than most of the people she knew.

If she had to call them something, she’d call them rivals. It shouldn’t even be a contest, because Fringilla is weak and unambitious, and yet, everything that Yennefer has ever accomplished—working hard for her achievements, pushing herself to her limits, never yielding an inch she’s gained—Fringilla is always there, a few steps behind her, obviously less adept but making her ineptitude look easy. It’s despicable, the praise that is heaped upon her when she has hardly tried, and all Yennefer gets, despite her striving, is a grudging nod from Headmistresses de Vries. Innate talent, she’s heard the instructors call Fringilla’s abilities when they think no one can hear them, when all it really is, as far as Yennefer can tell, is high birth and good connections.

And then there’s the fact that they fuck, though she would never call what they do lovemaking. It’s not like it is with Istredd, where she wants so desperately for him to see her—really see her, and want her just the way she is. Maybe that isn’t love, either, but it’s the closest Yennefer’s ever come. What she does with Fringilla is not tender, or soft, or even teasing. It’s furtive and rough and sometimes when Yennefer tugs too hard at her hair or scratches at her shoulders, Fringilla moans like she wants more. The way she looks at her, sometimes, when they’ve adjusted their clothes and are waiting for the coast to clear so they can go their separate ways, Fringilla looks at her like she would take anything Yennefer gave her, happily, gratefully, and take it and keep on taking it forever. 

They are not lovers. Yennefer doesn’t know what they are, but not that. And in any case, it won’t matter for much longer. Soon, they will both leave Aretuza, and take up posts on opposite sides of the Continent. After that, she’ll probably never think about the irritating way Fringilla hesitates when someone asks her a question, or how she yields so eagerly to the press of Yennefer’s tongue, or the sound she makes through her nose, so helpless and wrecked, when Yennefer pushes two fingers inside her and she starts to shake. After a while, she will not remember her at all. There’s probably a word for that, too, Yennefer thinks—a memory, a phantom, an afterimage burned on the back of her eyelids by the bright light of the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://likecastle.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
